


A big good, yeah.

by nattycakes



Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Femlock, Fluff, Gen, General, so fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nattycakes/pseuds/nattycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't like being called Sheryl, and eggs should always go into the cupboard. And with a small sigh, if possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A big good, yeah.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mymomoness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymomoness/gifts).



> This is seriously a little ficlet I wrote for mymomoness on tumblr, because she's adorable, and I femlock is important and lovely.

Joan Watson was perfectly happy _thank you very much_ , and she was perfectly fine on her own. She had Sheryl sure (or as she prefers to be called Sherlock. Sheryl is too personal, to much sentiment), but Sheryl doesn’t so much as look up from her beakers to make sure the heating was actually paid. Or to watch Joan put the eggs in the cupboard. Yell at Sheryl for not telling her they were out of beans. Getting a very small “humpf,” in return. Joan was perfectly fine on her own.

 

Except when she’s not. She watches Sherlock talk down to Lestrade about “Of course, I mean, of COURSE you should have noticed that the blood splatter that this is a crime of passion, not a _robbery_. How could you be so blind?”, There is a very small part of Joan that smiles when she watches Sherlock do this. Her eyes get bright, her posture is different, and for Christ sake might actually eat tonight. Joan would rather have Indian, (seriously craving naan bread) but Sheryl would scream bloody murder if she didn’t get Angelo’s tonight. Joan closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She’s made up her mind.

 

Tonight is the night that Joan is going to make her move. In between the second glass of white wine (Sheryl wouldn’t touch it, not brandy.) and picking at the olives on her plate “Honestly Joan, you never eat them anyway.” She puts her hand on Sherlocks. She looks at it for just a second, and then stares at Sheryl. Waiting. Time doesn’t move, not a single tick went by before Sheryl looks at her and nodded very slightly.

  
“Angelo, as it turns out, we shall need a candle on the table.” Sherlock smirked just a little bit, and Joan let her mind slip into all the things that future will holds. 


End file.
